The Five Stages of Grief

Geez, who's up for some pungent foods? Anyone? Anyone...?

Every generation lays claim to some traumatic historical moment that its members will never forget where they were and what they were doing: the Kennedy assassination; the explosion that destroyed the Challenger; September 11. On Friday night I had a bit of a traumatic moment of my own I don't think I'll ever forget.

I was writing an email on my computer at exactly 9:17 PM on February 29 when I got The Message from Lindsey who'd gone to visit Lisa in Tsukumi that night. The message read simply "The Trandor is gone! I almost cried." My eyes wide, heart pumping irregularly, sweat collecting on the brows, I stared at that message long and hard to comprehend its magnitude. Trandor. Gone. Inconceivable.


Need to plan a wedding but are just too lazy...or white? Call Lazy Cinderella's right NOW! The next one is a hair salon I've been meaning to take shot of for about four years now.

What is "Trandor" exactly? I think only my family that came to visit me in Japan have experienced its myriad intoxicating charms among the readers of this blog. Trandor is a bakery located in Oita Station that makes pastries, sandwiches, fresh bread and various other things that only marginally fall under the banner or "baked goods" for the city's commuters. When I was studying at Oita U. (if one took the train to and from school) Trandor was the reason you came and went to class--to hell with learning and edjumacation, gimme a shrimp roll sandwich and some cheese toast! As I'd mentioned before, any Japanese city worth a damn has a Trandor in their station...and now I would have to face the reality that the city I love would be, well, a neutered one.

I went into denial. "There must be some misunderstanding, a sick trick of the light or narcoleptic fit perhaps caused you to miss it," I thought as I emailed Lindsey for confirmation. "I wish it were, now I'm stuck with Mr. Donut..." came the reply. Angry at the situation I kicked the table in my room and hurt my ankle. Ow. Perhaps it was the pain, but I reverted right back to denial. I was heading to Oita for Lisa's b-day party the next day anywho and decided to swing by the station to see with my own eyes what the fate of Trandor was, hoping that if it wasn't there I could move on to the bargaining phase and start a petition for its reinstatement.


Duncan says he bought this shirt on 10-minute's notice for this party, but who really has luck that good? Next door Lisa and Nobu blow out the candles on the heavenly chocolate birthday cake Ippei bought.

That crack smoking sonuvabitch...Trandor hadn't gone anywhere. Its hot racks of curry pizza pitas, jam-filled buns and hot dog permutations were right there staring back at me with delicious eyes. Lindsey later explained she meant the Trandor at Hita Station, but that one's always been sub-par and I couldn't care less about it. I chewed her out properly at Lisa's party. The pink and black-themed bash was held at Redwood Bar and Grill just a few blocks from my old dorm/apartment in Nagahama and is always a blast to hang at. The owners are obsessed--OBSESSED!--with Texas and take vacations there whenever they can. Well, I won't tell them that there aren't any Redwood trees in Texas as long as they continue making tasty Tex-Mex and burgers.

--Matt